


Nuclear Fission

by sp8ce



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Sollux Captor, M/M, Mania, Mental Instability, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Sexual Content, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp8ce/pseuds/sp8ce
Summary: The thought of him rolls in your think pan like a sudden, erratic turn of a star.
Relationships: Eridan Ampora/Sollux Captor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	Nuclear Fission

You feel like the sun.

Your psionics are crackling in your head with such intensity you think it’s plausible you are a nuclear reactor. Your head can fizzle or strike like lightning. You’re made from pure electricity. You’re made of pure rays of sunlight. 

And no one fucking gets it. 

You need something, _anything_ , you can’t destroy. You need someone who’d still make you welcome with whatever is happening inside of your pan. You message Karkat and burst into fits of laughter at his mocking incomprehension. You message Terezi and she makes fun. You want to message Feferi because that you cannot ruin; she already knows that you’re way too much to be around or be loved, but even Eridan respected--

The thought of him rolls in your think pan like a sudden, erratic turn of a star. He still sometimes messages you, after the game ended suddenly with all of you alive and able to remember everything up till the point you died (except you and Feferi, you remember half of some other parts, and she can see the dream bubbles). You’re not _entirely_ sure why, as you know for a fact he hasn’t said a word to Karkat in all this time, but you respond despondently most of the time. He isn’t the best at getting a rise out of you, and he’s kind of stupid and annoying, but sometimes he’s fun.

And right now? You could be obsessed with _anything._

You think of your stupid duels and his stupid remarks and the way he used to dress, and the fact he still wears the same scarf with the same colours that he wore _two sweeps ago,_ like he’s made of whatever the game did to him. You think of how ridiculous it is that you know that at all, the selfies he sends you “so you can see me grimacin at you.” The only thing you don’t think about are the apologies he said to you right after you all ended up stranded, eight and confused, like you’d collectively been in a coma.

You know he likes you black, and you also know it’s unreciprocated. Honestly, you’ve been coming to terms with your black feelings for Karkat, but they’re mixed so weirdly pale that you know for a fact you’re better off friends. Eridan though? You don’t think you hate him. And you really don’t think you respect him. But right now, the thought of him sends obsessive fury through your pan, rolling like a storm. You’ve never felt anything like this in your entire life. You can see him clearly in your head, and he’s so _real,_ and you think you want him. 

It seems perfect, too. You don’t think you’re dangerous, even if you feel violent, you’re not going to push any violence past reasonable kismesis boundaries. And it doesn’t matter if he hates you. It doesn’t matter if he thinks you’re out of your mind, so fucking crazy. It doesn’t matter if he can’t stand you like this or can’t stand you at all. Because you don’t care about his opinion of you _at all,_ perhaps less than anyone else on this planet, and he? Well isn’t he supposed to hate you?

You message him asking if you can come over, and he messages you back sure immediately, asks “wwhen” and when you say now, he asks what set fire to your feculent, ugly jeans, and you fight the urge to tell him that he’s right when he insults you for being a mutant. Because that is really it.

It takes longer than you expect to get to his hive, but it’s so nice of a place, you know you have to insult his decorating skills.

He’s wearing a fucking _cape_ when you get there, but it’s grey, not purple, and a disgusting sneer is plastered on his face.

“So what are you doing here?” he asks, without even saying hello. You sneer back at him. He’s leaning against an elegant bookshelf, looking like he’s some sort of mystical marvel statue. He’s a lot more imposing than when you were last together physically, all highblooded and mature. But your psionics have never been so strong. You wonder if you could beat that wonder he temporarily blinded you with in the game right now. Probably not, but you wish so badly you could try.

But he doesn’t shoot you at all when you send a rush towards him, knocking him back into the bookshelf. He just looks momentarily shocked, maybe a bit hurt, before he stares at you and smiles. 

“Are you here to finally kill me?” he asks, and his words are laced sickly sweet. You’re a little perplexed by that. 

“I’m... not going to kill you,” you say, trying to sound careful, but the words slip out fast like the speed of your thoughts. 

“Beat me up? Knock me out? Knock my teeth out. B-blind me?” he asks, stuttering at the end despite the fact it’s not even a v or w. He actually sounds scared, and that wasn’t your intention. You weren’t _really_ able to think through everything despite the fact you can think through everything at the speed of light (because you made from the sun)(maybe he’ll go blind or crazy by just looking at you). You release your psionics, and he stumbles to grab the bookshelf to not fall over. He looks at you quizzically, but still afraid. “Gotta say, Sol, seems a bit caliginous.”

It drives you wild with rage, like you could live off the euphoria forever of just the rage in this exact second. He’s so _fucking stupid._ You walk up to him, and close the space between your lips and kiss him. You start gentle, because you didn’t exactly ask him and you want him to pull away if he wants to, but he kisses you back with so much ferocity, like he’s desperate for you, like he needs the sun inside of you to survive, so you grab his left arm and aggressively pull him to the ground, aiding yourself with psionics (because he’s gotten strong and you want to cushion the fall), and pin him down so you can kiss him, and you bite his lip, but you want him to _fight back more_ , so you let up your powers again, but he still doesn’t do more than kiss you back.

“Can’t do better than that?” you goad, and he narrows his eyes at that, but he’s so sensitive to your touch that you think he’s desperate even for the pressure of you sitting on him now. He’s way too hesitant, not even going to kiss you again, that you almost just want to leave (where is his _fire_?), but then he manhandles you around, shoving you to the ground until you are over him, breathing deeply.

“Is this what you want?” You’re giddy at the sound of his stupid wavering voice. You don’t realise he’s actually asking you a question and not just mocking you until he refuses to move any more. 

“ _Yes,"_ you say. 

“‘Yeth,’” he mocks, and yeah maybe you should have just said “yeah” because he grabs your arms in a really tight grip and pins them down. This is so exactly what you wanted. You just wish he were less hesitant. It seems like he’s afraid of hurting you. He goes down to kiss you, and you stop him mid-air, make him unable to move, and he just looks at you confused. You might be a twig, but your thinkpan is on fire. You release him, but he doesn’t move to kiss you any longer, so you pull against his hands pinning you down, but you can’t physically move out of his grasp. It’s _so good_ . You fight it more and more, and eventually he gives in and lets you up, which _also_ isn’t what you wanted. 

“You’re not going to hurt me,” you say. “Or, rather, you can,” you add. He looks at you so quizzically, still, like it doesn’t make sense for an old acquaintance to show up needy at your doorstep suddenly after years. You pull aggressively at his scarf, choking him somewhat, and you see his eyes roll with it. He doesn’t move to stop you at all, so push him off you and slam him into the wall across from you and keep him pinned there, with your psionics of course, before walking over to him. “Just tell me to fuck off if you want, of course.” He shakes his head immediately, like he feels blessed you’re here to fuck him up randomly. You guess he has been flirting with you for quite a while. 

Maybe you can hurt him? Maybe this is playing with his feelings? Because you’ve never felt so strong black feelings in your life, but you know that this can’t stay forever.

You just don’t like thinking of that very much.

“Maybe I should warn you... I am pretty fucked up right now,” you say. His eyes go wide at that.

“Are you sober? Did you have soper or mind honey or somethin stupid like that?” he says. “If you want, you can just sleep here, till you--”

“ED! I’m sober, fuck’s sakes. You’re not going to take advantage of me. I was just warning you,” you say. “I’m crazy.”

“Ah,” he says. He still looks puzzled. 

“Feel free to tell me to fuck off...” you offer.

“No!” he blurts quickly. You smirk at that, and you think he blushes. He tries to move his limbs to no avail, but from the way his face looks slightly glazed over, you think he likes it. 

You move to kiss him and kiss him as if you’re trying to devour him, and he returns it like there’s nothing better in the world. You accidentally let your psionics up, something your rarely do, because you’re so lost in what it feels like to be kissing him. 

He kisses you with such ferocity it flames your think pan and the manic solar flares sweep over you like perfect euphoria. There’s something in the way that he reaches to caress your face that wells quickly over like tenderness, and it aches like some red addiction your intense pan can’t handle. You push his hands back manually (with your own hands) before pinning them telepathically.

“Do you want this? Do you want me to stop?” you ask him, even as he arches into your touch as you trace your hand down his body to the waist of his pants.

“Yes, no, I mean, go on,” he says, pretty incoherently. You find it infuriatingly adorable, which strikes you a bit like fear given how much you don’t want to care about whatever is happening that you will ruin, except your brain is still the sun, and the sun isn’t afraid of an ocean wave.

You pull his pants down, though it’s difficult given how tight they are and how you refuse to let his arms up, and pull yours down too, taking a bucket out of your sylladex, and beginning to stroke his bulge with your hands. He’s _so_ sensitive, more than you expected, and it takes effort for you to slow down enough to make it slower and more tortuous while you try to quickly catch on to how to tease and please him the best. You keep yourself stimulated with pulses of your psionics, which is kinda against the point of how badly you want to be touched right now, but your patience is too low and you’re too focused on making Eridan gasp. 

You know you’re still going too fast, and if it were going to last he’d probably need to be in control, but you can’t help yourself when he’s grinding into your hands like your touch is everything he could ever need. You want to oblige him, and you study his face with interest when you finally make him come, letting him free of your powers, and he spills into the bucket you’ve positioned. He’s so spent after that, you’re surprised he has the energy to even sit up, and touch you, and when he does it’s like he’s tethering every part of you to a reality in pure bliss until you come. 

After you regain control of your breath, you wipe your hands on your pants and pull them up. Eridan is lying on the ground beside the bucket, and he looks a little shocked. In theory, you’d like to fall asleep beside him, but you’re still full of energy even now. You just feel good instead of like the sun is burning your insides. You sit beside him, and trace your fingers up and down his arm, and he leans into your touch still, like even now he craves it so, and he’s too tired to fight it. He doesn’t say anything though, and it worries you, because you _know_ you’re not in your right state of mind, that this was abrupt, sudden, and you haven’t even seen his face in forever, and you really don’t want to hurt someone, even him, while you’re like this. You lay down beside him as if keeping still doesn’t cause you to feel like you’re cracking out of your shell soon, like you’re about to hatch out of your skin.

“Are you okay,” he asks, finally speaking up. You sit up, looking at him confused. He has something like genuine care on your face, and it doesn’t register right in your out-of-it mind. He’s not supposed to care. Anyways, aren’t you supposed to be asking him that?

“What, did you not want this?” you ask, and you wonder if he hears the fear in your voice. Sometimes the top tips you over to paranoia, and you don’t care if Eridan secretly hates you (he openly hates you), but you _do_ care if you’ve done something to rash or wrong and actually hurt him.

“No!” he says quickly, turning away from you presumably to hide his stupid violet fuming face. “I just meant you said you felt crazy, can I help?” 

“I didn’t say I _felt_ crazy, I said _was_ crazy, and why the fuck do you care?” you ask, shocked by him.

“Excuse _me_ for havin a little concern for the troll I just pailed,” he says. 

“No, thanks for being a real gentletroll,” you respond, but it needles you, his care. “I thought you wanted to be my kismesis so why would you care?” He sighs dramatically. 

“What’s goin’ on, Sol?” he asks, again, and it does something to you, how he isn’t giving up on this. 

“I have a fucked up mutated pan that told me pailing you was a smart decision,” you say. He nods slightly. 

“Did it... help?” he asks, and there’s something weak in his voice. _Wow,_ he makes you want to comfort him. It does something to your insides.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you respond.

“Yeah,” he says, and it makes you angry.

“It helped,” you concede. The admission flares up something new in your chest. It feels vulnerable. “Can I stay here? At least for a bit?”

“A course, Sol,” he says, and he sits up, staring at you with tired, kind eyes. You think he’s acting like a pretty bad kismesis. He moves towards you, and kisses you, guiding you back to the ground, and you don’t need to overextend your psionics all over the room to tether your brain down. 

It’s actually kind of upsetting, you think, absently, now that fear has its ways of creeping up on you, as you realise how good it feels for Eridan to kiss you. It’s upsetting how much it helped.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this a few weeks back when I was feeling manic :0 hope you like it! I have some more in mind, but it's hard when I'm in such a different state now.


End file.
